Chapter 149
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 149
Chapter Title: Peep Show Grey (6)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Department of Defense's public affairs office, having received the decision, sent over a model response. The printer connected to the satellite terminal spat out paper with a strained whir. Hmm. Kowalski, who had guided Winter to a separate communications room, glanced over the message and chuckled softly. He hadn't expected a reply in less than an hour.
"They're in a hurry for something that doesn't even have a set date. Or maybe they were secretly hoping for it."
She cleared away the cryptic documents cluttering the table to make some space.
Winter sat in the spot she'd created, took the message, and examined it as he replied.
"They were hoping for it. They couldn't openly suggest it for fear of it seeming coercive, but from their position, it was the choice they desired most. The best and greatest possibility. Besides, it's hard to believe they drafted something this eloquent in such a short time."
The phrasing was as superb as the president's speech he'd heard before. It must have been prepared in advance. How regrettable it would have been if it went unused. Winter could clearly picture the handlers fidgeting anxiously on the other end of the satellite link. He smiled transparently, a rare expression. Maybe Captain MacGuire or Major Bliss was there too? There were probably a couple of people he knew working in public affairs.
Kowalski added a playful tone to her mirroring smile.
"More like they were betting on it, just like us?"
"No way."
"You never know. Personally, I think it's likely. People who like Lieutenant Winter are everywhere. It was probably something like, 'I trust Han Gyeowol. He's got character to match his abilities. Sure, the projected deal amount is ridiculous, but he won't waver for mere money. Why? Because he's Han Gyeowol!'"
"They'd get mad if they heard that at public affairs."
"So what? These days, everyone needs to find some joy. How else can someone stay strict and serious through these ashen times? Even me. I can't remember the last time I went home. Oh, our Smoky must have forgotten what Mom looks like by now."
An unusual name for a child. The young agent didn't look married either, so Winter tilted his head.
"Smoky? Is that a pet by any chance?"
"Yeah. Purebred Persian. Persian Chinchilla. It felt more like serving a lord than keeping a pet, but what can you do? It's a cat. I left it with a neighbor, but I'm worried. I didn't pay enough for the trouble. I got dragged here without even knowing what the mission was."
Who knew it would drag on this long? the agent muttered. It must have been unexpected. While other countries—CIA's usual playgrounds—were falling one after another, she'd been assigned a long-term infiltration mission.
Kowalski wore a genuinely wistful expression. It didn't seem like acting, even under scrutiny. Winter asked.
"How old?"
"Nine this year."
"That's pretty old for a cat."
"Yeah. I want it to live a long time. It's my only family now."
A pause. The conversation halted. Winter gazed at her quietly. The agent broke the brief silence cheerfully.
"I said something unnecessary. Don't mind it. It's been over a year already."
Winter, who had been watching her, checked her complexion and deliberately probed further.
"I'm sorry. Were the rest of your family in the West?"
"No, my parents were traveling. Their 30th anniversary. I bought them tickets to France. Booked the hotel and restaurants too. The last contact was that they were spending time in Paris."
"If it was France, they should have had time to evacuate... Wasn't there a special flight arranged?"
Setting up emergency contact networks and evacuation plans for citizens was basic embassy protocol. The US excelled at it. A nation constantly dealing with wars and terrorism.
"Why wouldn't there be? But France at the time was a cauldron of chaos. A bomb went off in a department store designated as a temporary shelter. The perp was an eschatologist and a communist. Extreme fanaticism mixed with classic atheism—what a joke, right?"
"An mismatched combo, but I can imagine it."
"Behold the horseman of the plague sent from the Father in heaven to earth. This is punishment for humanity, corrupted and defiled by capitalism. By blowing up the capitalist funhouse today, I cry out a rebuke to the world. Humanity, do you seek salvation? Then repent..."
His intelligence correction output info on the incident. The Galeries Lafayette bombing. Why was a department store the shelter? The thought triggered more details. Text floated with photos. Typically, rally points for evac ops were stadiums or hotels, but at the time, every stadium and hotel in Paris was packed with refugees.
"I told you, right? We have to find joy."
The intel agent's words came casually. But an unspoken sigh lingered. The real emotion, technically hidden. Yet her composure was thinly layered. It could have been thicker.
Winter changed the subject.
"But is it okay for me to be in here?"
The room was surrounded by ciphertexts. Leaking just these documents could jeopardize the entire US encryption system. Potential adversaries were all teetering on collapse, making it an even riskier time. Especially Russia. One of Orca Black's side missions was counterintelligence around San Francisco.
'With all the abandoned military facilities.'
Updating ciphers wasn't simple. In times like these, it was impossible.
"No problem. No secrets from mission participants. And suspecting a Medal of Honor recipient would be foolish."
"Still, I don't have clearance."
"Heh, call it field flexibility. But you're right."
She looked around.
"It's rare for anyone else to come in here. I usually work alone."
That made it feel like a private space often. Kowalski flashed a mischievous smile.
"So, what do you think? Impressions of entering my room?"
"It's pretty spartan."
"Oh come on, is that all?"
The distance closed. The agent leaned in from across the table. Precarious amid the shuffled papers. A mature scent wafted through her swaying hair. Winter felt his temperature rise. His pulse quickened. His breathing intervals shortened to match.
Even as his mind cooled sharply.
'This level of disconnect hasn't happened since San Miguel.'
Sensory compulsion enforced by situational calculus. Independent of his true state, it made sweat bead in terrifying atmospheres, heart race in tense ones.
The mind relies on senses. Though his real body had long been sold, as long as post-insurance sensory reproduction converged endlessly on reality, the massive loss was something that happened beyond the sensory barrier. Thus, when inexperienced, his mind often got swept up. Like the suspension bridge effect.
But now was strange.
As tech levels improved, control over the body strengthened.
Thus, this disconnect wasn't normal.
"It's disconcerting, Agent Kowalski. This is our first proper greeting today. What's the reason?"
Winter stared straight ahead. His gaze stalled her approach. She countered with a playful, seductive air.
"Reason? Well. Does this world we're living in need any other reason?"
"..."
"You don't know. Right now, east of the quarantine line, an infection burst could be happening somewhere. Tomorrow morning, all comms to the East could go dark, and I might be sitting there at a silent console, just shedding tears. Tomorrow at this time, I might be pondering how to die painlessly."
A warm hand approached, touching his cheek.
"In a world that could end anytime, gripped by anxiety that tomorrow might not come, a man and woman alone in a sealed space. No other reason needed, right? We can make one joyful thing happen here."
Her face drew closer, a faint shadow falling. The remaining distance: about a handspan. The hand slid from cheek to neck.
"Lieutenant, your face is flushed too. Heart racing?"
"Yes. That's what I'm finding strange."
"What's strange about it?"
Winter caught her hand as it ventured lower. Still locking eyes with her, he spoke in even calm.
"I'll be honest. I genuinely think you're pretty. Attractive."
"Really?"
"Yes. So I hope you're not disappointed. I think it was the beer, right?"
"...What do you mean?"
"You just slipped on your expression."
A lie. Her poker face was solid. She wielded emotional facades like tools.
But this time, she faltered. Kowalski withdrew her hand. Then looked at Winter. The atmosphere had shifted completely. Like observing something fascinating.
"You already knew. No point denying it."
She sighed softly, sinking back under the table. Pulled her chair closer, crossed her legs.
"How'd you know? It was half-sincere acting. I thought it'd definitely work."
"I've felt off since earlier. The situation, and myself."
The sensory compulsion of situational calculus was just another variable's effect. Probably a drug. The only plausible ingestion route: that one Budweiser.
No sensory correction warning made sense. It wasn't life-threatening. Non-toxic, so 「Survival Instinct」 dulled. No intent to harm Winter, so 「Crisis Detection」 struggled. But above all.
'Chadwick team leader's personal skill.'
High-level 「Deception」 not only hid from 「Insight」 but concealed hostile intent.
Without disease-like cold rationality, he might not have noticed.
Winter's mind was still crushed by the stone's weight. Memories of that day—stripped of even shame as a non-human commodity—were embedded like blades in the darkest, coldest recesses of his brain.
Parts of the conversation flow felt artificial too. Just Winter's sense, but repeated coincidence becomes inevitability.
"Hmm. I have a guess... but disappointing anyway. Don't most guys overlook weirdness in that mood? For something more important."
Winter smiled once, then asked.
"I'll ask again. What's the reason?"
"Persistent guys aren't popular. Mind if I smoke?"
She answered by pulling out a lighter. How accommodating. Kowalski lit the cigarette he offered. The room was so quiet, the dry crackle of burning tobacco rang clear.
"That's a Ranger's gift."
"Got it in Santa Margarita. 75th Regiment, 2nd Battalion, Delta Company, 3rd Platoon Leader, Lieutenant John E. Frey."
"John E. Frey? Ah, Delta Company. Captain Emert's thugs. Still chasing humpbacks, I hear. Famous for ignoring recall orders from quarantine command. Command's secretly counting on them, so no hard pressure."
"Any other news?"
It strayed from the point, but useful info. Kowalski wouldn't dodge. He had no standing to press if she hid reasons anyway. CIA held field command. Chadwick could just deem it necessary.
"Hm, he's famous enough no one here doesn't know him, but status unclear. Last contact: ten days ago, south of Pinnacle National Park."
Paradoxically, disobeying orders was a fine soldier's trait.